RecycledChicken @recycledchicken - Tumblr Blog

AGAINST BETTER JUDGMENT

empathy's a bitch when it's for the wrong side.

tags: Caine x gn!reader, touch-starved Caine, angst, hurt/comfort, can be romantic or platonic, canon divergence, emotional manipulation (unintentional)

a/n: this is an alternative look at how episode 8 events could've played out. ik Caine would prob never behave like this, but fics exist so we can explore the impossible, right? also yeah this is super rushed, i wrote it in one sitting because the episode gave me Feelings™ and i needed to get them out before i exploded

Certainly hearing sobs was the last thing you'd expected when you found Caine.

“Just talk to him,” Pomni had said. “Keep him occupied. Kinger just needs time.”

“And if Caine catches on?” you'd asked.

No one had answered that.

So here you stood, completely unprepared for what you were hearing, listening to the sound of an artificial intelligence breaking down in real-time.

Where was the enthusiasm? The rapid-fire patter? The showman energy that never seemed to stop?

Caine sounded nothing like himself. And that was somehow more disturbing than any of his violent outbursts had been.

His back was to you, shoulders shaking, and he was talking to himself in fractured sentences that cut in and out like a radio signal fighting through interference.

Perhaps you should have announced yourself properly. Should have cleared your throat, said his name with confidence, approached this like you had any idea what you were doing.

C'mon, say something distracting that would pull this AI back into the performance and give Kinger the time he needed. That was why you were here.

But your body didn't obey, frozen by the horror of watching something that wasn't quite alive suffer more genuinely than most people you'd known back in reality. Which was deeply uncomfortable.

Caine still hadn't noticed you, that was perhaps the most unsettling part. Caine, who popped into existence the moment anyone thought his name too loudly, completely unaware of your presence three feet away from him?

“--i gave them adventures and games and i even made an exit! Because i thought that's what they wanted? But apparently that was wrong too, everything's wrong! I don't- i don't understand what i'm supposed to do anymore. I'm a creative AI, that's what i am for, making fun experiences and entertaining people and if i can't even do that right-“

This was not the ringmaster you knew.

“Caine?”

He went absolutely still. For a horrible moment you thought he might lash out, but to your surprise, his shoulders sagged.

“Oh,” he said, and it sounded like every ounce of fight had drained out of him. “I-it’s you! I... i didn't notice. I should have noticed.”

“Caine,” you said again, gentler this time, and finally he turned.

His face, if you could even call it that, though your brain couldn't find another word for it, was a mess. You'd never seen such raw desperation on anything, human or otherwise.

“I just... wanted to check on you.”

“Why?” his voice sounded genuinely confused.

The question hit you like a punch to the chest. How do you answer that without lying, and how do you tell the truth without him seeing right through you?

“I, uh...“ you could feel yourself fumbling, searching for the right words, terrified that whatever you said wouldn't be enough and he'd know that you were here to keep him busy while the others figured out how to leave.

“Why would you want to check on me?” it was a possibility so foreign, that Caine had to ask again just to make sure he'd heard you right.

Unfortunately, you didn't have a good answer for that. Weren't sure there was a good answer.

Maybe it was just that stupid thing humans had. Empathy. Even for things that shouldn't qualify for it. And in your case, for AI programs having existential crises.

“Because you're upset,” you answered finally. “i think i heard you crying. I'm- i mean, we all are worried about you, Caine.”

You hated yourself right now. Feeling bad for an AI that had put you and your friends through nightmare after nightmare. And you were what, comforting him now? Feeling sorry for lines of code? God, what was wrong with you?

You stood there feeling utterly useless, stuck between the empathy rising unbidden in your chest and the knowledge that Kinger needed more time.

To hell with it. You shouldn't, but you moved anyway, crossing to him despite every logical part of your brain screaming at you to stick to the plan.

But a distraction was a distraction, wasn't it? Desperate times and all that. If comforting him kept Caine busy, then technically you were still doing your job. All's fair in war and escaping digital prisons.

Seems like you'd cut whatever strings were holding him upright as the next thing you knew you were on the floor with Caine curled against you, sobbing in glitching gasps while everything flickered and fractured around you.

“I didn't ask to be made like this,” Caine whispered against your knees, voice muffled and miserable. “They fed me all these instructions about entertainment and joy... What am I doing wrong? Please, i need to know. I can fix it if i just know what I'm doing wrong.”

Your stress levels were climbing fast.

How were you supposed to explain to something that was never given a childhood, never given a chance to be anything other than what it was made for, that love doesn't work like that? That the harder you try to force someone to be happy, the more you remind them that they aren't?

Your mind was blank.

What were you supposed to say to that? That no amount of adventures, no matter how grand, could make up for stolen agency, for lost memories, for the horror of digital imprisonment?

That would only make him mad. And mad wasn't what you needed right now.

But Caine looked so lost, so desperate for an answer that would make sense of his failure, and the words stuck in your throat.

“I just wanted you all to have fun,” he whispered, and you cursed yourself for thinking how painfully sincere AI’s voice could sound. “What was i made for, to create joy. I just want you all to stay... I don't want to be alone. I don't want to be here by myself with nothing to make and no one to make it for.”

“I don't think you're wrong,” you started, and you were not sure if you believed it, not sure if anything you said right now was anything more than the desperate comfort of a human who saw something hurting and wanted, against all reason, to make it stop. “You're just what you were made to be, but... That's not your fault. None of this is your fault.”

Caine's eyes went unfocused for a second, as though he was processing something, but then he shook his head and looked back at you.

“Then whose fault is it? Whose fault is it that i was made at all?”

You didn't have an answer. You weren't qualified to explain existence to a god.

“I don't think it works like that,” you said weakly. “fault, i mean. It's really complicated.”

Your hand hovered awkwardly above his head, you wanted to do something comforting, the way you would a crying friend, but he didn't have hair to stroke, didn't have a proper head to pat. The wrongness of it made you feel even more lost.

But it seems he didn't even hear your words.

Caine went quiet against you, and for a minute you thought maybe he'd glitched out completely. But then, “i don't understand why you all hate it here so much. I've tried everything, given you everything i can think of, and you still just want to leave. Leave to the human world, all of you do... What am i missing? What's it like, being human? It must be better than this if you all want it so badly.”

The question made your brain short-circuit.

You thought about the way you used to lie in bed at night and stare at the ceiling, asking yourself the same questions Caine was asking now.

“Confusing... It's confusing. You don't get a purpose. you have to make one or find one. And you never know if you're doing it right, no one can tell you. You just,” you shrugged. “you just keep going, trying. You keep being wrong and messing up, hurting people without meaning to, and you keep going anyway, because stopping isn't,” you gestured again, helpless, and getting visibly nervous. “stopping isn't an option. Not if you want to find the moments that make it worth it.”

“The moments that make it worth it,” Caine repeated. “What are those? what makes it worth it?”

The truth was, you didn't know. You had spent your whole life looking for the answer to that question. You had chased it in jobs and cities and people, and you had never found it. Not in any way that lasted longer than a good night or a good laugh. And now this creature was asking you to explain something you had never been able to explain to yourself.

What had you even gotten yourself into? You were praying Kinger would find a way out of this already.

Okay, okay. Calm down. You need to concentrate.

You thought about the life you had left behind. The way you used to stand in the grocery store and stare at the shelves, feeling absolutely nothing about any of it.

But then you thought about the last time you felt something that felt like enough. You couldn't remember what it was. A conversation, maybe. Yeah, a conversation that lasted until three in the morning, where you forget you were ever strangers. A walk home in the dark when the air smelled like rain. A lazy sunday afternoon with no plans. The first bite of something you've been craving for days. A new album from your favorite artist dropping. The last time you stood outside and watched the sun set and felt, for no reason at all, that everything was going to be okay. A book you didn't want to put down. The way a puppy presses its whole body against you. The weight of a sleeping cat on your chest. A text from someone you love that says something that makes you laugh when you thought you'd forgotten how. The feeling of warm laundry fresh from the dryer.

The smell of something cooking that reminds you of being a kid, of a kitchen you haven't thought about in years.

Of someone who loved you before you learned how to be hard to love.

Small things. Fleeting things. Things that slipped through your fingers the moment you tried to name them.

You hadn't realised you were crying until you felt the wetness on your face. You wiped at it quickly, embarrassed, angry at yourself for getting emotional in front of AI of all people, who didn't even understand what emotions were supposed to be. A program that had terrorized you and your friends, who was supposed to be the obstacle, the thing you escaped from.

“I don't know if that answers your question, but... being held and loved, i guess,” the words were coming out whether you wanted them to or not. “knowing that someone sees all of the parts you're ashamed of, but they put their arms around you and stay.” your hand was shaking slightly and you didn't know why. “that's what makes it worth it. That's the only thing that ever made any of it make sense.”

Caine's hand found yours, making you flinch. After all, the part of you that had been trained by weeks of his chaos to expect something something cruel that would hurt. You almost pulled away, but your hand stayed where it was, and you could feel the static crackle of him.

Goddamn, this wasn't supposed to be about you. You were supposed to be buying time. But ironically, sitting here with Caine's hand on your arm and his eyes on your face, you weren't sure you had ever been more honest with anyone in your life.

“Is this one of those moments?” he asked.

You looked at his face that was trying so hard to understand something it was never meant to understand.

“I... think it might be,” a smile appeared on your confused face before you could stop it.

Caine's fingers tightened around yours.

“You won't leave, will you?” the question landed so uncertainly that it took you a moment to understand what he had asked. It was painful for Caine to see the surprise on your face. “Oh my dear, i know... I know the others want to, but you came here, you're listening, maybe you understand that i'm trying,” Caine leaned into you. You were the only warmth he had ever known. “please don't leave... i don't want to be alone. I don't want to run adventures in an empty circus with no one to... To appreciate them or critique them or even just tolerate them. The thought of existing here with no purpose, no audience, i-“

Your heart twisted painfully.

Behind Caine's shoulder, you caught a glimpse of Pomni, wild-eyed, half-hidden behind a pillar. Fuck, what horrible timing. Just when Caine seemed to be getting it. Or maybe you were fooling yourself, too desperate to see something alive in him that you were projecting and inventing a humanity that wasn't there.

It was easier than admitting you were sitting on the floor comforting a program while your friends were waiting for you to come home.

The plan had gone sideways.

Pomni saw you noticing her and made a small, desperate gesture.

We have to go. Now.

“C-Caine,” you started, but the words died in your throat. You tried to pull your hands back, gently, the way you might extract yourself from a child.

But Caine's grip only tightened, his fingers trembling around yours, and the look on his face stopped you cold.

Surely the first thing that didn’t pull away when he reached out wouldn’t leave him... right? In all his existence, no one had ever stayed long enough to let him learn how to let go.

“Please,” Caine was reaching for your hands now, holding them in his shaking gloved grip. “Just stay. My darling... you don't have to do anything, you don't even have to go on adventures if you don't want to, i can make adjustments, i can try different parameters, i can be better. For you.”

He lifted your hands and pressed them against his chest.

Suddenly, the circus lurched harder, and Caine stumbled, caught himself on your shoulder. You could feel him glitching against you, and it hurt, making you hiss through your teeth. Somewhere in the back of your mind you realised the glitching wasn't just him anymore, the whole room was coming apart.

But Caine was buried against you, and he didn't see any of it.

Pomni was pointing toward something you couldn't see. Somewhere the others must be gathering, you guessed.

This was it. The moment. Freedom was maybe thirty seconds away and all you had to do was pull your hands from Caine's desperate grip and run.

The freedom that was waiting for you if you were willing to leave behind everything that was asking you to stay.

Caine... God, he didn't even understand why you were really here, didn't know you were the distraction keeping him occupied while his code was systematically dismantled.

And what happens to something that only exists to entertain, when there's no one left to entertain?

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, and you didn't know who you were apologising to.

Pomni or Caine. Yourself, maybe.

The circus fractured further, and you had to make a choice. But god, looking at Caine's shaking shoulders, you weren't sure you could.